


Hallia Alone (CCQCCIACCC)

by Mimiga



Category: Poppy O'Possum (Webcomic)
Genre: Furry, Gen, Just Emotional Suffering In General, Solitude-borne Suffering, Suffering, The Burd Was Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiga/pseuds/Mimiga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The burd was sad."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallia Alone (CCQCCIACCC)

It was at that final sigh of completion which Hallia swore if she saw another document on property taxes she'd jump out a window. A barren wooden desk showed in the stead of what seemed to be an endless stack of files, now sorted and completed to the best of her abilities and awaiting a final inspection from Ms. Quibble. On top of Petunia being a control freak in general, Hallia's signature wouldn't mean much to actually certify most of the paperwork, and if she had wrists they'd probably be screaming in agony. She pushed out from the desk and let loose an almighty stretch before hobbling towards the exit because the lack of blood circulation. 

The door clicked behind her and solidified the jarring transition to adjacent dim halls. A brief pause confirmed the house to be desolate of sound other than it's own creaking boards, everyone was still out for the evening. Hallia carefully shambled through the inky darkness, half thankful she didn't have any toes to stub on a corner while liveliness was still returning to her legs. Knowing a house well enough allowed for one to stumble through without the constant need for lights. 

The gloom didn't get any brighter once she entered the kitchen. The window streaked with crooked lines of rain dull from a distinct lack of outside glare. A glance towards the distant clock revealed the time in glowing red digits: 7:46. Not only was it a little early to be as dark as night this time of year, but it's unusual for it to be raining so heavily on the corner of Eggton. Canopy must be having a hell of a time with this storm, hopefully everyone was doing alright. 

Regardless, Hallia had the entire fridge and any pantry to herself for dinner tonight. Poppy had plans coming up for some time so she rushed to finish off everything in the sink so that there would be nothing to come back to, but that also meant fending for herself. Anything in the room was available to her conjured fingertips, brightly glimmering pink in the darkness and ironically reaching for a bag of barbecue chips. The materials were there where her mood was simply not. 

She navigated her way from there with diminished vision and entered the den mostly intact. While collapsing onto the couch she tossed the unopened bag on a close cushion and slumped back. It would taken practically the minimal effort to turn on the TV or the light, or to reach over and open the chips, yet the atmosphere beckoned sloth. Probably because spending the last four hours enamored with policies and fine print was a powerful draining process to anyone's psyche. Even after grabbing the chips and coming all the way here she realized only now that she wasn't even hungry to begin with. No wonder she couldn't work herself up to cooking. 

The shadows seemed almost soft in the setting with the exception of the faintest orange glimmer from Poppy's candle atop the mantle, the rain tapping faintly against glass and wood around her was numbing. The only thing that really seemed to bite was how cold the room was without the mantle lit. It was rare for the house to have such a deep silence ever since Poppy came around a few seasons back. The calm now was almost lonely without the animation it was usually given, Petunia rushing about and Lily free-running across furniture while Poppy cleans the ensuing messes. At least it was somewhat relaxing, if a little eerie. 

While lounging she may as well venture to wonder how the Quibbles were doing despite the storm. Petunia got the invitation to a banquet weeks ago, fortune permitting it was planned indoors. It was rare enough for her and Alvus to be noticed for that kind of thing with how big Eggton really wasn't, even more seldom that Petunia would actually put down work to attend. Maybe they would have had room for one more guest if she asked earlier? Hm, there would have still been a growing pile of files to tackle when she got back nevertheless. 

It was probably best she didn't come along anyway. She wasn't quite anyone important enough to fit in, just some assistant like any other secretary. A secretary who would have gone absolutely mad on the buffet and made a poor guest of herself. Free food was a weakness which possibly trounced any others off the top of her head. Actually, she probably shouldn't test that notion for any longer than a moment. At least she was pretty sure they would have invited her if it were plausible. 

The Quibbles weren't the only ones guilty of running off this evening anyway, otherwise it wouldn't be so desolate. Poppy received another one of those lavender-smelling royal letters a few days back like she was a noble all along. Nobody even knows exactly how she got such a close relationship with the queen, not just her management but Kit Darling herself wrote the damn letters. Messengers just come and go with all kinds of invitations and events for no obvious reason at all. Poppy could have been having an affair with the queen this whole time and nobody would have been any the wiser. 

Whatever royal thing she went to this time, Hallia figured it was easier to rule herself out of tagging along for it. An aristocratic banquet was one thing, Kit herself was leagues farther behind a few layers of gates and guards. As interesting as it would be to see the inside of the castle and maybe even meet the queen herself, that's probably more of a dream than anything. Although if an opossum maid with a shaky reputation somehow got that kind of contact in the first place then perhaps dreams aren't too far off anymore. 

While sitting around and moping alone saved energy in the long run, there had to be at least something productive to do around the house. The obvious answer of doing some cleaning was out of the question thanks to Poppy's warpath earlier. Not only were none of the dishes spared, but there wasn't a centimeter of space left not dusted nor any corner not thoroughly swept. The house was practically spotless in that regard. 

All the paperwork that she could possibly work on or complete had been so and even sorted by topic in alphabetical order. There wasn't even an envelope in the next two miles to be signed or sent. The only interesting books in the house she already read or revolved around political topics that she probably couldn't stomach for long from the last few hours. The kitchen was there if ever she did get hungry, but how could she make dinner if her appetite wouldn't call forth the effort to open a bag of chips? Besides, it's probably a bad idea to form a habit of cooking when she got bored. Mirrors were already an inconvenience enough as it was. 

Uh, maybe she could try baking or something instead of fixing something up just for herself? It'd be nice for everyone to be pleasantly surprised once they got back, and it really was the least she could do. Then again, Poppy's own baking probably desensitized everyone to anything out of the oven that wasn't absolutely fantastic. Her efforts would be fruitless to try and make something to compare. A mediocre use of ingredients that Poppy could have made something amazing with, it's practically a negative. 

Hallia let her vacant gaze wander aimlessly about the dark corners of the room and pulled her wings tight against her body. It was too damn cold to sit still at all it seemed. Even if it was a bit early, she could always just go to bed and be done with it underneath warm covers. Then again, this kind of mood might prohibit that kind of wishful efficiency. She'd toss and turn while inadequately lukewarm for the next three hours until sleep even became an option. The last thing she wanted was to sit with a bored frame of mind and let it stew while she waited for her body to grow tired of consciousness. 

There had to be something to do, productive or not. Still nothing would come to mind, not a single show on tonight that would be any bit interesting nor any songs that would be worth the effort looking up and listen to. Hallia sat up nearly shivering and considered turning on the fire place or putting on a sweater or something. Typically she had nothing to do with whether the heat was turned on or not, it just didn't seem like her place to meddle. Although the real house's heating system was separate from the mantle, which was pretty much only there for show with magically generated fire. It'd also be useful if she got desperate enough to try something like drawing to pass the time until anyone got home. 

Aves, when was the last time she tried to pencil a picture inspired in her head and it didn't go into the fire? At least one of those pieces took half a day's worth of exaggerated shading and erasing and it still seemed far too poor in quality to exist anywhere besides the bottom of a drawer. Thank goodness she never considered taking up something like painting with an actual cost and more permanent strokes, there was no way an entire canvas could be disposed of entirely unnoticed. Magic fires burn slow for safety reasons, but ashes are just ashes in the end aren't they? 

A sharp twitch through her back from the chilling air finally convinced her to get a move on to put on a damn coat instead of sitting in the cold and angst. Shakily she rose from the couch and took off back into the more ambiguous darkness within the halls. Using her wingtips she gently scouted her way through as to not smack into a sudden corner lurking beyond her memory and eyesight. Only her sullen footsteps causing tired floorboards to creak accompanied the constant but fading tapping presence of the rain outside. Ahead around a turn glowing the faintest blue was a window projecting streaks of rain onto the wall. 

Outside there was a few distant flickering lights shining through the early night to reveal the silhouettes of buildings and existence of paths. Hallia stood for a moment to take in the scenery of a rainy Eggton behind a splattered glass pane. See, this is exactly why it was so inconvenient that she was a terrible artist. A perfectly beautiful somber picture was right before her eyes and there was no way to express it to any medium. No use in writing objectively about a specific mood that happened once, anyways. 

Farther down the corridor and through the door a conjured pink hand flicked on a switch with a burst of light. A fraction of a second was the adjustment time of her eyes to the sudden bright atmosphere the room gave. She'd been meaning to do something about how gruesomely plain it was, even being a bit on the messier side would have given it at least some character. One day Morbi might actually draw the room and do something about it. For now, though, she approached her bed and snatched the coat from atop wrinkled covers. To call it that was a bit of a stretch, the traditional kind of coat was fairly off-limits for avian species. The pretty-much-a-cloak fit over her head snugly and draped loosely at her sides before she pulled the corners forward and together. It definitely wouldn't be comparable to sitting in front of a fire, but at the very least it'd save on bills. 

Once in the gloomy halls again she twisted her body and pulled the door shut with a click. Right, now she could figure something to pass the time and not freeze to death. Didn't seem like much progress to the former though, while she was up it would be best to come up with that before the couch cushions beckoned once again. Now that she was thinking of the topic, it never used to be this difficult to trounce boredom until recently. Usually she was swamped with housework or paperwork until bed and then some the next morning. For a whole day to be complete in a compressed four hours was kind of ridiculous. 

Hallia stopped at the window for a second time and stared out in appreciation before continuing her thoughts. Once Poppy really grew accustomed as the maid there went a good portion of her own responsibilities. Mayor's assistant was kind of a combination of secretary and housekeeper, Poppy being once of the best housekeepers on this side of the Fenneclands as long as her arms weren't completely broken threw off that balance. The secretary portion still had relevance, but it always seemed that Petunia already has her father and his town in check. Most of the paperwork done would be triple-checked anyways and it wasn't like Ms. Quibble didn't steal her fair share of load to begin with. 

For a moment her eyes adjusted to catch her reflection in the glass, spotting a patch of rebellious feathers on the side of her head. From beneath the cloak her wing raised and brought a hand to smooth the imperfection down, spending the time to examine if there were any other flaws. Heh, what was she doing? There was nobody else here and she was fixing herself up in a window like it mattered what that scrutinizing yellow canary thought. The reflection said she was almost too brightly colored, probably looked off to most people. Maybe people really did silently wonder what the deal was, especially from the fact that someone so young was missing both their feet for seemingly no reason. Even now it'd be iffy to be called a befitting young woman, wouldn't it? 

The dreary town behind the glass became apparent in her view again as a far less gripping scene. She turned and continued down the hall before the foreboding feeling continued to rise in her chest. Tonight wasn't going to get any better if she kept dwelling on constant negatives like that. Though once more she would navigate the house and find herself in the den under the faintest of candle light, and there would still be nothing new to add. She chuckled to herself at the sight of such an empty room with a misplaced opened bag of chips sitting on the couch. 

There wasn't a single time in the past where she would have thought that having the rest of the day off would have been so... depressing? She expected it to be more pleasant not having to manage half the town's functions, yet it was more like it was a realization that she wasn't needed. Maybe that was a bit of a stretch, Petunia wouldn't keep her around if she wasn't needed at all, right? Hallia sat down next to the barbecue chips and buried deeper into the cloak. 

Or maybe the truth was just that she wasn't as useful around here as she used to be when it was just Mr. Quibble. Of course with her work now she freed some time for Petunia to do whatever, but was Hallia really worth the costs and hassle? This wasn't just some day job, she lived here and ate their food and used their electricity. Even after a mediocre check she wasn't too convinced that she ever earned the level of kindness and hospitality she was given. There was always that tiny twinge of guilt in the back of her mind that maybe said she was practically robbing these people with minimal effort in return. 

It really was kind of pathetic how little she had to offer anyone. Her hobby was already her job, so that made it a career she guessed? She didn't have any specific talents, there wasn't anything interesting going on personally, she pretty much barely left the house without purpose. No, there wasn't any use getting into this funk now. If she was already a monetary drain on her friends then she shouldn't become an emotional one again. Maybe Poppy wouldn't notice, but Petunia could see through a forced face quicker than a mind reader. It'd be terrible to become so much of a burden that she'd start worrying again. 

Except here she was, moping in the dark anyway, on the same kind of path that would lead to thoughts like "you wouldn't bother anyone anymore if you left". Things so obviously untrue and childish, but still somehow had a kind of pull that couldn't be ignored. It was stupid, pointless, tempting. The kind of thing to bury and forget about while life passes by sensibly. If she had just caved in and read books about the various political structures used in neighboring countries then there'd be no need to think like a moody child. Besides, she had to pay back the generosity somehow, even if there wasn't many easy ways to. Her conscience would grind far harder than kind of silly, convoluted self-depreciation. 
    
    
    _________________________
    
    
    
    

A frantic jingling of keys chimed from behind the door until the lock mechanism finally clicked in compliance. The knob twisted and hastily Petunia pushed through into shelter with Alvus in close pursuit, above his head a semicircle of transparent magic dissipated at the touch of a button once was inside. 

"Why, why did I put my umbrella on my key-chain?" Petunia threw her dampened hat onto a nearby rack and brushed off any stray droplets from her clothes. Her father in suit tossed his overcoat onto a hook and chuckled. "Why not just use an actual umbrella?" He said. 

"I didn't think I'd need it, that's the point of having a convenient one attached to my key-chain. It didn't occur to me at the time that I would have to open doors in the rain." While on the thought she pulled the trinket from the clinking bundle and stashed it in her pocket. She stopped a moment and sniffed the air, something seemed off. "Do you smell that?" 

"Yes, it reminds me of those times you tried your hand at those over-complicated cake recipes. I can't quite put my finger on what it exactly is, though..." He scratched the back of his head in thought. "Burning and flour?" Petunia briskly suggested before rushing off ahead. "Oh! The smell was burning!" She heard him exclaim behind her before he fell out of earshot. He probably hadn't realized yet that burning was definitely not a normal house smell, nor one you should have to be reminded of upon entering your home. 

A flood of light came to the kitchen as she scrambled for the switch and flipped it. To her relief, the only things that were out of the ordinary didn't include a fire ravaging the foundation. Rather there were only a few bowls soaking in the sink and on the counter was a tray of... questionable looking cookies. The burning smell came from how they were slightly singed on the edges from being overcooked. Upon closer inspection she saw that some of the cookies in the center had fused together during baking to form some kind of lumpy omnipotent cookie slab. 

"Hm, that would explain it!" Alvus entered behind her and made a b-line straight for the tray of baked goods and the baked deity. "How nice of Hallia, I don't recall it being often that she cooks something up!" He said, brandishing a butter knife like a god-slaying sword to wholly defeat and break apart the false lord of sugary treats. 

"We just got back from a banquet and you're still eating?" Petunia muttered to deaf ears, he was already attempting to salvage a workable piece from the slightly burnt titan. It was kind of sketchy that Hallia would try and bake something this late alone. Ignoring the scraping commotion going on on the counter, she continued through with the light of the kitchen behind her. 

Passing into the den she felt the sudden chill which lingered on patches of still-wet fur. Geez, at least Hallia could have turned on the heat or something. There wasn't any reason for it to be this- Her foot hit something strange which crinkled on the floor. Looking down she saw that there was just a bag of chips on the ground in the middle of the room. Petunia shot a glance towards the couch and saw the dull yellow form of Hallia laying silently in sleep. 

A few feathers on her head were skewed and awkward, the position she was laying in seemed like it'd be fairly uncomfortable especially for her neck. Despite that she was wearing a coat the fact that it fell halfway off probably did nothing to keep her warm. Honestly, what was she doing with the heat off sleeping on the couch? It's not like those cushions were particularly comfortable, how did she fall asleep when it was this cold in the first place? Petunia stepped forward to wake her up but pulled the hand back before it made contact. Something was up, people don't become ragged for no reason and chips don't magically appear four feet from a table. Well, they could, but Hallia probably doesn't know how to cast that kind of spell. Maybe it was something about the paperwork today? 

Alvus was still doing battle with the cookie deity when Petunia returned, unopened bag of chips in hand. He finished off the last mouthful and began while she returned the chips. "My compliments to the chef for sure, crispy around the edges doesn't make them half bad." Petunia shushed him with a finger to her lips. 

"Hallia's asleep in the den, be quiet." She whispered. 

"What, in this temperature? She's going to catch a bug if she doesn't head to her room." His voice was at least a tad more hushed than before. "Did you at least turn on the heat?" 

"Not yet. I'm going to get her a blanket, just thank her in the morning will you?" Alvus formed an O with two of his fingers and crunched down on another chunk of cookie. She paced again into an adjacent hall still illuminated by the kitchen and found a cabinet against the wall. Within she fiddled beneath layers of folded sheets and covers, eventually finding on the bottom the bulky form of a heavy comforter. 

Hallia hadn't shifted much when Petunia returned encumbered with an armful of blanket. Methodically she unfolded it's corners until she was forced to extend her arms out just to hold up half. Gently as to not wake her, she stepped forward and draped it over the canary, who only stirred slightly before returning to a still. The worst she'll have now is a stiff neck in the morning, it would have been awful to have to wake up feeling like she was in a freezer. Though it seemed that whatever was bugging her already got through regardless of how many blankets Petunia laid on her. 

She tapped a space on the far wall and brought up the glow of a dull blue interface which flooded with information of the weather outside and air inside. With a few more pokes and a slide the A/C began the process to warm the house, Petunia swiped away the holographic panel so that it disappeared into the wall again. Before retiring she turned to catch one last glance at Hallia, her sleeping figure barely made a twitch since the comforter fell upon her. "Don't hurt yourself, alright?" She muttered beneath her breath to the canary's subconscious. Then she was gone. 

Ever since the front door opened Hallia had awoke and came to her senses. Something compelled her to remain motionless and stay seemingly asleep while the Quibbles moved about, but now she was alone again. Lethargically she pulled in blanket while the concern in Petunia's voice soaked deeper. She was too tired to think of anything other words, a shaking silent sigh fell from her mouth before she turned to the back of the couch and buried her head into it so nobody would hear her unexpressed sobbing. 

>She

**Author's Note:**

> -Originally completed on October 9th, 2015  
> -The acronym is the true title, and means "Cold Canary Quietly Cries Courteously in a Corner Coinciding Canopy"


End file.
